An ASD Parent’s Response to the Tylenol and Autism Debate

When I heard Robert F. Kennedy Jr. and President Trump claim that taking Tylenol during pregnancy could cause autism, I felt something heavy settle in my chest. Like many parents, I have asked myself the same painful questions. How did this happen? Why is my child different? What causes autism?

I know that diagnoses have risen partly because awareness has grown. Even after years of research, the exact cause remains unclear. When national leaders suggest that the answer might be something as ordinary as a pain reliever my wife took during pregnancy, a medication her doctors had long assured her was safe, it feels personal. It feels like blame. 

That is not fair. And it does not match what doctors and scientists actually say. 

The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists has reaffirmed that acetaminophen, also known as Tylenol, is safe for pregnant women when used as directed, and that no evidence proves it causes autism. The World Health Organization agrees and has said that the research is inconsistent and inconclusive. Autism is shaped by genetics, biology, and environment, making it a complex condition. A single pill taken for a headache cannot be the sole cause of autism. 

Health agencies in Europe, the United Kingdom, and Australia have reached the same conclusion. Their message is clear: the science does not support the accusation, and spreading unproven claims only creates confusion and fear for families like mine. 

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates that about 3.2 percent of children in the United States are autistic. Written as a percentage, that figure might seem small, but it means that one out of every thirty-one children is diagnosed with autism. Think about how many people you pass by in a single day. On the freeway, at your job, in a park, or while running errands, you likely cross paths with more than thirty people without even realizing it. When you imagine that rhythm of ordinary life, the statistic becomes personal. It reminds us that families like mine are all around, quietly learning to balance careers, daily routines, and the search for therapies and support, while trying to preserve a sense of stability and hope within family life. 

While this debate over Tylenol dominates headlines, the administration is promoting the One Big Beautiful Bill Act, which would cut Medicaid funding by more than $1 trillion. Medicaid is the main lifeline for autism services in the country. Those cuts would mean fewer therapy hours, longer waitlists, and more financial strain for families who are already stretched thin. 

All of this makes me question how much we can trust the people leading us. If our own government begins promoting medical claims that the global medical community rejects, how can parents like me feel confident in our choices? We already live with enough uncertainty. The last thing we need is doubt in the institutions that are supposed to protect and guide us.

Debate is healthy, but honest discussion must begin with shared truth. We can disagree about policies and priorities, but without facts, discussion becomes meaningless noise. When leaders dismiss scientific consensus and spread fear, they make honest debate impossible. 

Parents like me do not seek blame or sympathy. We are looking for understanding, for honesty, and for hope. Behind every diagnosis is a family doing its best. Trust is not political. It is deeply personal.